


Comfortable

by orphan_account



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-10
Updated: 2011-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-14 15:42:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/150853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten, fifteen, twenty years gone, Brian loves Justin most on Saturday mornings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfortable

_Ten, fifteen, twenty years gone, Brian loves Justin most on Saturday mornings._

The covers are disheveled; legs are tangled in twisted sheets that won’t let go. The room is humid, damp with warm breath. Warm skin. Mid-morning sun spreads across the floorboards, yellow like spilled paint, and the golden dust motes float, fly, sparkle in the air.

Brian turns on his side. Watches.

Justin’s sleeping in a thin white T-shirt with a hole at the seam. Twisted black briefs. Dark golden pubes peaking out from the elastic at his inner thighs. His hair’s dirty, greasy at the roots, and there’s dried drool on his cheek. The corners of his nose are shiny from night sweat and morning heat.

He looks warm.

Brian touches him lightly, fingers like dancing moths. His fingertips trace patterns across soft skin, lingering at places of interest…crinkles, moles, trails of hair…stroking affectionately. Brian studies Justin like a student. He examines him with clear eyes, a hungry body, and the hidden gentleness behind the steel of his armor. He examines him and wonders when it all changed…when the boy turned into the man who turned into _this_. He brushes his lips against the soft, sweaty warmth of Justin’s neck.

His skin tastes faintly of salt and his hair smells of cigarette smoke.

Justin shifts. He brings his arms up and curls them inward, then outward. Stretches. The small muscles of his biceps bulge slightly as he stretches, the cord-like tendons, his calve muscles, and the skin of his neck pull tight as he yawns and moves.

His eyes open and he grumbles, having woken before he wanted. There’s bunched skin between his eyebrows and his soft bottom lip is caught between his teeth.

Brian rolls and leans down, opening his mouth and gently closing his lips against the damp skin at the hollow of Justin’s throat. He laves the skin with his tongue, sucking, kissing, at the same time taking hold of Justin’s left hand and meshing their fingers until gaps are filled and grips are tight.

“Good morning,” Justin whispers, eyes closed and lips upturned. His tongue pokes out to wet his bottom lip.

Brian moves lower.

The thing about being comfortable is that you can do this. You can have this. Summer Saturdays of making out in bed, of touching sweaty skin. Two men with morning breath and messy hair, kissing each other awake, their fingers squeezed together. Palms soft, hot, damp. They’re infinite, their day is unplanned, they can…stay. Stay twisted, tangled, warm-sweaty-scorching, naked and free for as long as they want. Hours, all day. Until they’re hungry, dehydrated…until they move to the shower for more.

Brian likes these summer Saturday mornings more than he ever thought he would. He likes them more than he has ever dreamed. Nowadays, he finds himself dwelling not so much on the past, on what he used to think, feel, believe. He finds himself dwelling here, with another person, with Justin, happy. He’s old, he thinks. Almost fifty. He’s tired. Too tired to fight battles meant to be lost, too tired to reluctantly say no, too tired to not speak when he should, to not look at that man beneath him, beside him, and love him so much it drives him insane.

He does this quietly, though. The comfortableness is silent. It’s in Brian’s kisses, his touches, the way he smiles as he pulls down the waistband of Justin’s briefs and breathes into and against his pubes.

Justin doesn’t groom himself anymore; Brian never did. No trimming, shaving. Natural. Comfortable. Brian runs his palm across the triangle of dry, springy hair, and sighs because it’s sexy. Sexy as hell. He likes how it grows in those creases at Justin's inner thighs. The hairs are straighter, not as course. Brian kisses him there.

The comfortableness is also in the way Brian takes Justin’s soft, nascent cock into his mouth. He closes his lips around the head and sucks. Licks. Tastes. Justin breathes out a long, slow stream of air. Squeezes his eyes shut. Swallows. He gets hard as Brian wraps his fingers around his cock, beginning the gentle tug-pull-stroke as he sucks, as he presses slurping, wet kisses to the velvety skin.

Brian loves the feel of Justin’s cock filling. Loves the rigidity it gains as he moves his fist up and down the shaft. Loves the thump-thump pulsation of the vein running along the side. He pushes Justin’s cock up toward his navel and licks at the underside, sliding his tongue up and down, dipping it into the creases of soft skin between his cock and balls.

Justin gasps. Places a gentle hand on the back of Brian’s head. Tangles his fingers in the hair there and rubs at Brian’s scalp.

Sex is quiet on Saturday mornings. Quiet for Justin. He’s not loud when he’s sleepy…when he’s woken up before he’s ready after staying up until two the night before. He’s sensitive, though, his body waking up after rest. Nerve endings tingle. Arousal heightens.

He bites his lips later on as he straddles Brian’s waist, and closes his eyes when he lowers himself onto Brian’s well-lubed cock. Raw. Bare. Warm-wet-wonderful. Comfortable. That thumping, pulsing part of him, that spot inside his ass, behind his balls, feels hot. Scorching. Aching. Tingling. Brian’s cock rubs along the channel, the walls of Justin’s ass, filling him, brushing him, stroking him from the inside.

Brian loves it when Justin rides him. He loves lying there, watching Justin use his sweaty palms as leverage, pushing against Brian’s chest as he rocks. Back and forth. Slow. He loves holding onto Justin’s slim hips…still slim, body still lithe after twenty years…pressing upward, thrusting gently every few seconds. Breathing. Sighing. Watching Justin’s face as it changes from the initial expression of the burn-stretch-pain of entry to the lost look of pure, delicious arousal. Pleasure. Sweet, wet bliss.

Justin’s still in his T-shirt, the fabric falling just above his ass, bunched around his cock in front. As he leans down to kiss Brian, moving his hands from Brian’s chest to the sides of his face, Brian slides his hands up under the back of the fabric. Arms are warm, back is warmer. Brian strokes the soft, smooth skin. Feels the tiny raised, pink mole on his shoulder blade.

Justin’s getting frantic, his movements harder, slower yet working deeper, craving that brush against his prostate, craving a deep, hard fuck. He straightens. Grabs the headboard behind Brian. Brian wraps his left arm around Justin’s waist and uses his right to push against the mattress, getting him into an upright position, until he’s seated against the headboard and Justin’s in his lap, face red, mouth open.

Brian bites the skin of Justin’s neck…the hot, sweaty skin that tastes like salt and day-old soap, last night’s cologne and last night’s sex. He takes Justin’s cock in his right hand and begins the slow strokes that send Justin up on his knees, then back down again, up on his knees, then back down. Breath coming in pants.

Brian’s almost there, cock aching, straining, wet and hot inside Justin. He pulls Justin’s head down with his left hand tangled in his hair, right hand still stroking, and devours him. Sucks his mouth. Licks. Their breath isn’t fresh, there’s still dried sleep-drool on Justin’s cheek. It doesn’t matter.

Justin starts to come on the down stroke, as he’s lowering himself back into Brian’s lap, as Brian’s fist squeezes his cock, rubs the shaft up and down in the wetness of clear, ropy fluid. Brian feels it. He feels the contractions, the pulsing-thumping-squeezing of the walls of Justin’s ass around his cock. It’s a rhythm. A squeeze-release-squeeze-release as thick, white come spurts from the head of Justin’s cock, landing in his pubes and in his lap. On Brian’s fist. Justin’s stomach.

Justin exhales loudly against Brian’s mouth, and Brian feels his cock jerk inside Justin’s ass at how hot it is…how unbelievably sexy it is to be sucking the tongue of a man who’s coming. Capturing his mouth. Biting his lips. Feeling the contractions around your cock, the come on your fist, tasting the rush of breath, the rumble of a moan, a sigh on your lips, tongue, and teeth. Completely connected as Justin has release. As his body shudders, his nipples harden beneath his T-shirt, his pupils dilate, and pleasure floods him from head to toe. Brian loves the way Justin’s body shakes. Loves how heat seems to radiate from his skin. Loves how hot his mouth gets and how sweaty his palms. Behind his ears. His neck. Chest, back.

Thinking about that, feeling it, squeezing Justin’s shaking, shuddering body to his own is all it takes.

Kissing Justin furiously, wanting to give him that same connection, that same intimate feeling, Brian thrusts upward, squeezing Justin hard, moaning-groaning-panting into his mouth as he comes inside him. The purge, the flood, is fantastic. Consuming. Justin holds Brian’s head between his palms and kisses him until neither man can breathe, until Brian is spent, collapsed against the headboard with sweat running down his face.

It’s comfortable when the two of them curl up together afterwards. Justin discards his shirt on the floor by the bed so his sweat can cool and so Brian can touch him all over.

Brian runs his hand up and down Justin’s bare chest. Leans in to kiss at his pink nipples. Strokes the hairs that have just sprouted up over the past five years.

Even if they weren’t monogamous, even in the past, back then, Brian can’t imagine ever doing this with anyone else. Taking the time to do this. Wanting to do this. Looking at a man’s happy, satisfied face and smiling, thinking about what they just did together. How good it felt. How they did that and they’ll do it again. How they’ll get up, eat lunch, get on with their day, and then come back at night and do it all over.

It scares Brian.

It calms him more.

He rolls, covers Justin’s body with his own, and kisses him gently.

Justin’s eyes are closed and he looks at peace. He wraps his arms around Brian’s neck and pulls him closer.

“It’s going to be a good day,” he says between a kiss and a breath, a chuckle beneath his words.

Brian nods, sliding his hands into Justin’s hair. “The best.”


End file.
